


nine days a week

by halfwheeze



Series: Rare HP Bingo Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fighting, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, cheating but not really, perceived cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24817234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwheeze/pseuds/halfwheeze
Summary: Bloody Gryffindors. He should have listened to Cissy.He hates James Potter so, so much.
Relationships: Regulus Black/James Potter
Series: Rare HP Bingo Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795096
Comments: 5
Kudos: 225





	nine days a week

**Author's Note:**

> first work for the rare hp bingo!
> 
> my prompt was   
> b2: james potter/regulus black

_ Bloody  _ **_Gryffindors._ ** _ He should have listened to Cissy.  _

“Do you think I’m bloody  _ blind,  _ James Potter? Do you think I’m fucking  _ stupid?”  _ Regulus fumes, throwing some book or another against the wall of his dormitory. It’s one of Cresswell’s stupid novels, muggleborn he is, so it’s not as if it’s  _ quality literature.  _ Nonsense. Doesn’t matter. James, bloody tosser, catches the book with a wordless spell -  _ must he always be such a ridiculous show off -  _ before addressing Regulus at all, a dismissal that Regulus won’t soon be letting go of. James fucking Potter, Gryffindor tosser, as brilliant and beautiful as he is, has dismissed Regulus for the last time. 

“Reg, love, I’m not sure what you mean. I don’t think you’re stupid. I don’t know what I did, either,” James attempts to soothe him with hands up, earnest expression, voice a careful quiet. Regulus doesn’t care for false endeavors, never has, and James Potter should mind his own. Thinking of him as simply James, Regulus thinks, is too kind. 

“I’m not your  _ love,  _ James Potter. That’s Lily Evans and we both know it. Anyone with eyes can see how you look at her,” Regulus snaps back, hurt curling around the back of his throat. James’s wandering eyes had stopped for maybe a month after they had begun seeing each other, the intensity of his gazes only for Regulus, the care, the love. But Potter and Evans had begun speaking to each other of recent, hiding away in alcoves in the library, not even giving Regulus the respect of being subtle. James has the audacity to squint at him, adjusting his glasses. 

“Evans? Evans has only stopped hating me in the past month, darling. It’d be bloody impressive if I could get her to like me this quick,” Potter jokes, quirking his ridiculous smile. Something in the range of Regulus’s chest burns in a way he never allows, not his cold fire that stokes itself beneath his breastbone and turns to ice, but something  _ hot,  _ something  _ hurt.  _

“You want her to, then. You want  _ her _ to like you. Excellent. I think you should be leaving, then,” Regulus says, infusing his voice with his ice, with his Slytherin coldness, with all of the resolve his mother carved into him with well-manicured fingers. Part of the hurt, he supposes, is that he actually quite likes Evans - they see each other occasionally at Prefect meetings, and she has always shown him a kindness that Gryffindors rarely do. Well, Gryffindors save James. Fuck James Potter. Regulus turns his back on the other man and moves to sit on his beds, pulling the curtains drawn. Good. An obvious dismissal. 

“Reg-” James begins, but Regulus cuts him off. 

“I do believe I told you to leave,” the Slytherin says, hiding away in his bed with all of the grace of the true Black heir, even if it isn’t a particularly graceful thing to be doing. He hears James sigh, hears his stupid muggle boots hit the flooring of the room once, and assumes that James will be taking his leave. His assumption is proven quite wrong when his curtains are yanked open, the blasted Gryffindor standing directly in his face. 

“I understand that you told me to leave, but given that you’re wrong, absolutely bloody awfully wrong, I don’t believe I will,” James says, cupping Regulus’s jaw. Regulus tears himself away. 

“You will  _ not  _ be silencing me with affections. I will not allow it, James Fleamont Potter,” Regulus snips, one of his hands pressing against Potter’s chest naturally. He tries to push James away but the other boy is stronger than him, and James’s hand is over Regulus’s, just holding it there, just holding. The Gryffindor rests his forehead against Regulus’s and holds Regulus in place, forcing him to just breathe.  _ Fuck  _ James Potter. But Regulus cannot bear to hurt him. 

“I don’t want to silence you, love. I am horribly, embarrassingly, terrifyingly, terribly, awfully in love with you, and I refuse to leave this room without you being incredibly sure of that,” James says, his voice low and sweet and everything that Regulus wants to believe, but he can’t. They’ve never said those words before, they’ve only been seeing each other for three months, James cannot… he can’t love him. No one falls in love with Regulus Black. He is not the Black brother with the manic smile, the magnetizing looks and the raucous, infectious laughter. He is not the Black brother that people fall in love with. He is the forgettable Black brother and he’s always been okay with that. He is not someone people fall in love with. 

“No,” Regulus protests, weak and broken and quiet and barely anything at all. James smiles down at him. 

“I am, darling. I love you so dearly I can hardly keep it to myself, and Miss Evans, bless her, has figured me out. I’ve been talking to Evans about  _ you,  _ my love, since you decided, perfectly to your right, that your brother is best not knowing, and he  _ is  _ my closest friend. Evans, dearest, is my confidante, so to speak, so that I don’t accidentally tell Sirius that I want to shag his little brother,” James replies, smiling curving into something more like a smirk that nearly always makes Regulus blush a deep red. They haven’t done any of  _ that  _ yet either, simply exchanging sweet kisses on occasion and holding each other close most of the time. James doesn’t want to push him, an incredibly sweet thing that has Regulus ten different kinds of enamoured. 

“So… you aren’t seeing Evans? And you don’t want to be?” he asks simply to be sure. James knocks their foreheads together lightly. 

“No, Regulus, I’m not, and I do believe she would kill me for the implication. She’s become quite fond of you in your Prefect meetings, apparently,” James says, lifting himself away from Regulus for a moment to kiss his forehead. “And I don’t want to be seeing her. I’m very happy with  _ you,  _ my love, and you’re the only person I want to be seeing for a good long while, I believe.” He punctuates by pulling off his upper layer of robes, stripping them off and throwing them on top of Regulus’s chest, where they have rested before and they’ll definitely rest again. In only trousers and a plain shirt, James crawls over Regulus and into Regulus’s bed, patting his chest. 

“What?” Regulus asks, just to tease. He feels almost light headed with how much his mood has changed in the past ten minutes, feels very  _ light  _ in general, and James Potter is entirely to blame. James pulls on his arm. 

“Lay down with me,” the older boy whines, sounding exactly like how Regulus would imagine he had at four years old. Smiling, Regulus lays down, even if it encourages whining behavior that he truly should not reward. Laying against James’s broad chest, Regulus gives himself to thoughts. He isn’t often sure of himself, not confident as his mother wishes he would be or as decisive as his father, but he thinks he could branch out into things. He thinks that he could do this one thing, he thinks he could make James happy. He thinks he could do it, even if it scares him. Even if announcing in public that he loves Regulus might make James change his mind. 

“We could tell Sirius. If you wanted,” he whispers in James’s collarbone, swallowing his fear. He can practically feel how his James lights up, the sunshine he keeps behind his eyes shining out into the world, and Regulus gets a mix of giddiness and fear shooting through his chest. 

“Really, love? You would do that?” James asks, voice delicate. He gently lifts Regulus’s face to make the Slytherin look at him. “You don’t have to do that. It’s okay to be scared. I love you,” James tells him again, placing a kiss delicately on Regulus’s nose. That might be what seals it - the care, the out, the everything. James. 

“I…” He wants to say it back, he’s near desperate in how badly he wants to say it back, but… Regulus cannot remember the last time someone told him he was loved. He cannot remember the last time he admitted to loving in return. James just kisses him again, this time on the cheek. 

“You don’t have to say it back yet. You don’t have to say it at all. I just want you to know how dearly I love you, and how dearly you are loved,” James replies in his dramatic fashion, kisses now on both of Regulus’s cheeks, his forehead, his nose, and finally, terribly, the softest kiss is placed upon his lips. James kisses him delicately, carefully, but so sure and encompassing that Regulus often forgets where they are when they’re doing something of that nature. For the out, for the offer of not saying it, for the way that James knows him and the terrifying ordeal of being known, Regulus pulls away from the kiss, just so gently as James had given it to him. 

“I love you. I might not always be able to say it, but I love you deeply and thoroughly and for all that you are. Even the Gryffindor bits,” Regulus says, eyes closed. James snorts, and Regulus’s eyes fly back open. 

“Sorry, love, but you’ll be quite fond of my  _ Gryffindor bits  _ one day, won’t you?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. Regulus rolls his eyes, an awful fondness rolling over him. He hates James Potter so, so much. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! kudos and comment!


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